Papa Francis meets an old 'friend'
by BlondieBrit
Summary: Francis moves to England with his sons and years later, gets a surprise meeting with his old crush - Arthur!


**8****th**** April - Entende Cordial - happy anniversary Francis and Arthur!**

(Italics is in French)

Francis yet again couldn't believe what he was doing. He was voluntarily leaving behind his beloved France and all he had ever loved, to move to England with his boys. He had long known about the prestigious schools in England -had been sent to one himself- but knew how hard it was to be away from his family so being the doting single parent that he was, took the decision to move with them.

For the twins' 12th birthday, Francis showed them pictures of their new house in their new country.

Their mother had been Canadian, but Alfred had always been rebellious and wanted to be different, and insisted upon being American. Francis was used to it and had long since stopped getting upset about the self-denial of 'Frenchness' in his son. Matthew on the other hand, eagerly spoke French with him and was happy to be half French and half Canadian.

Francis hoped he was doing the right thing and wished Maddie was there to help him with decisions. He had some great friends, and they did their best to help him, but when it came to the children Francis could never come to a decision no matter what other people said. It was when someone finally made Francis realise that the move to England was for the best. 'Make new memories' was something he didn't think was necessary until he realised how much of France was keeping him from moving on. 5 years on from her death, he really should be coping better than he currently was.

The sound of crying tore Francis back to the present and he glanced in the car mirror to see Alfred sitting on Matthew's favourite toy – Kumi. Squeezing his eyes shut, Matthew's cries turned to wailing as Alfred farted on the toy and then thrust it into his brother's face.

"_Alfred, stop it! You would be so upset if someone did that to Tony. Apologise to Matthew_."

Alfred ignored him and stuck his tongue out at Matthew. Kumi lay abandoned in the foot well as Matthew sucked a maple syrup toffee and Alfred played on his portable game. Francis soon felt his eyes grow heavy as he had been driving for a long time and hadn't been sleeping well lately.

"_Who is hungry_?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Eat what?" Alfred asked with narrowed eyes.

"_I was thinking of getting something at the nearest services."_ Francis felt a smile form at Alfred's delighted expression.

"FAST FOOD!" Alfred punched the air and tore his seatbelt off, clambering into the seat next to his father.

"_Mon dieu, put your seatbelt on. We have a few miles to go." _

As they pulled up, Francis dug his wallet out and hurried over to stop Alfred from running across the car park with his brother pulled behind him.

"_Boys, stay close to Papa and watch out for cars." _

Francis was so hungry, even the greasy food seemed appetizing and he chose one with the most salad. He was struggling to read the unusual English words and despite all the phrasebooks and online lessons, he still couldn't pronounce certain sounds. He had forgotten most English that he'd learnt at school. The boys learnt English at school and were very good, especially Alfred. It seemed that his quest of becoming American was inspiring him somehow.

"_What do you want to eat, Papa_?" Matthew asked Francis gently, who gratefully told him, and Alfred made the order. Francis felt out of place in this country already and he had hardly arrived.

5 years later and Francis was happier.

His boys were happily at a boarding school only an hour away and the summer holidays had just started, much to Francis' delight. He still spoke French with Matthew sometimes, but mostly it was uttered late at night into the ears of whoever was lying underneath him. He was back to his old self, the lover and seducer who now had an added advantage – his French accent. He found that men and women alike fell at his feet at the sound of his voice. The reputation of the French in bed certainly wasn't let down by Francis and although he'd had a few serious relationships, they hadn't lasted too long. Francis wasn't surprised because at 40 with two teenage sons, he didn't think that his chances were high for a new life partner.

Alfred had made Francis proud, and had gotten a part-time job as a waiter at a pub in town. Matthew was concentrating on his studies, which showed in his amazing grades. Francis couldn't be happier with his sons. His situation as a struggling artist had changed after his painting style proved much more popular in England and none of his work had gone unsold for more than a month in a gallery. Yes, Francis was very happy with his life.

There was just one thing about England that hadn't been as good as he'd hoped. His old friend from school, Arthur, had lived around here but Francis hadn't seen him. He thought it silly that he hadn't considered that he'd move house, but Francis had got a feeling. As soon as he'd seen the location of the house, it was an uncanny coincidence and the romantic as he was, Francis thought it must have been fate. Francis had never told him, but Arthur was his first crush.

Alfred was doing a night shift in the pub since his friend was still stoned and couldn't work. He'd promised Alfred some weed as payment on top of his paycheck, so Alfred wasn't bothered. It was more fun doing evenings anyway, since people got drunk and he could work at the bar despite not being 18 yet. Even better, one man at the bar had been eyeing him up all evening and Alfred couldn't help but to feel flattered. The tease as he was, he swaggered over and took the empty whisky glass.

"Can I get you something else, sir?" Alfred had decided to use his American accent that evening, what better time to practice? He sent him a flirty smile and spun the empty glass before pushing it away to the back of the bar. He'd watched Francis flirting and knew what to do. Only he would have to improvise since he didn't want it to lead anywhere.

"Same again, glass of Jura." Alfred was aware of the man's gaze on his back as he got the drink and pushed it up to him, letting his hand linger on it briefly. The man opened his mouth as if to say something but didn't. Alfred was running out of things to do, his pa was so much better; how embarrassing. Just as he was about to turn around, the man grabbed his wrist and Alfred felt shivers run up and down his spine, settling in his groin.

"Are you new here? Not seen you before." Alfred felt like the teenager he was.

"I don't normally do this shift." He forced it out, trying a smile but one look at the man's tipsy expression made him smile more naturally. He could embarrass himself all he wishes, the man probably wouldn't care right now.

"You're a regular here then are you? Got your own seat and all that?" Alfred teased and the man snorted and grinned.

"Too right I have. I do enough for this country to let me have a seat at my favourite pub. Fuck, have you tried this whisky? Amazing. In fact, let me buy you one. You're 18 right?" Alfred just nodded and grinned, Francis hardly had any alcohol at home except wine – Alfred wasn't a fan of wine. His friends were into cheap shitty alcohol and he didn't really like that either.

But -the man was right- the golden liquid smelt incredible. The man picked his glass up and they said cheers as the man knocked it back and grinned again as Alfred copied him but ended up coughing as his throat felt on fire.

"Arthur," the man said and Alfred blinked blankly. "Alfred," he responded. It was then that he remembered his pa mentioning his friend all that time ago at school. His name was Arthur too right? Alfred was more convinced than ever to get Arthur to tell him about himself, and see if it were Francis' Arthur.

"So, you live around here?" Alfred was feeling out of his depth and wished the bar was busier so he had time to think of what to say whilst getting other orders.

Arthur laughed merrily, pink cheeks making his otherwise manly appearance quite cute. Alfred tried to guess his age and thought he could possibly be 40 but looked younger, more like 30s.

"Easy, lad. I'm too old for you!" he laughed again and Alfred felt embarrassed. "I might tell you after a few more whiskey's, knowing me. They'll throw me out soon enough; your boss is suspicious. Ahaha look at the tosser." Arthur waved at the head barman who averted his gaze, waiting for the singing or stripping or whatever other surprises the man would have for later before he could kick him out.

"Look here Alfred, I've just come back from a bloody big job and have a load of money to kill. What should I do with it?"

Alfred wasn't expecting that.

"Give me a big tip?" they both laughed and Arthur slapped his hand on the table. "Have yourself another glass, get one for me too." Alfred was enjoying Arthur's company and when the time came for him to be thrown out, Alfred picked up the discarded clothing and found himself calling for a taxi. Still not knowing where he lived, Alfred took Arthur back to his home.

"Pa!" he shouted as he knocked on the door. Francis almost screamed as he saw Arthur and ushered Alfred inside, sweeping Arthur off his feet and carrying him to the living room. Matthew was watching the hockey finals so Francis changed direction and went to the spare bedroom.

"Arthur?" Francis whispered. Alfred had been right behind him and told Francis of the evening.

"That is Arthur! I've found you! You drunken mess, why are you still like this? Talk to me, it's Francis! It's Frog! Arthur?" Said man opened a green eye and Francis felt his heart flutter. He'd not seen any eyes equal in beauty as Arthur's.

"I'm drunk." Arthur grinned, turning away. Suddenly, he rolled over again and was sick all over Francis.

"SACRE BLEU! What have you done? I hate you! I don't care if you're drunk; it's your own fault! My clothes!" Alfred had been awkwardly standing in the door but laughed as his father was panicking and hurriedly pulling his shirt off and throwing it in the wash before undoing his trousers.

"Oh pa that's gross. Don't get naked for god sake. I'm staying with Arthur." He closed the door and saw the mess Arthur had made of himself.

"Poor Arthur, he is a crappy friend." Alfred grabbed a flannel from the bathroom and wiped Arthur's face and the sheets clean of vomit. He was relieved it was mostly alcohol, and remembered how mysterious Arthur had been only hours ago.

Francis came back and shooed Alfred away before cooing over Arthur and sitting next to the bed and talking to him, not realising that he was asleep.

"Fuck off, headache." Francis awoke to find Arthur sitting next to him on the floor, water glass in hand. At the voice he turned his head and smiled, it hadn't been a dream. He leant his head on Arthur's shoulder and shyly wrapped an arm around him. Arthur put his glass down and pulled Francis close to him, starting to cry.

"I missed you, damn frog. Why didn't you stay in England? And why didn't you tell me you were back?" Both of them were crying, and Francis pulled them even tighter together. After a while, they pulled away and laughed, wiping their tears away and Arthur coughed seriously and Francis grinned and shook his head.

"You haven't changed! Tell me, what happened to never getting drunk again?"

Arthur grinned and waved his hand in the air. "Ah, I have lost count of the times I have said that."

"Shall I introduce you to the boys?" Francis asked excitedly.

Arthur nodded and grimaced as he got to his feet. Francis knocked on the boys' doors and beckoned a nervous Arthur over.

"This is my old friend, Arthur. These are my precious children, Alfred and Matthew."

"Hello." Matthew smiled politely.

"Enough of the 'precious children' please pa." Alfred didn't meet Arthur's eyes, and could tell the other was rather embarrassed too.

Francis went to make breakfast and Arthur was left with the boys. Matthew excused himself and went to his room to get ready for the day and it was just Arthur and Alfred.

"Look Alfred, let's not tell your dad that I bought you alcohol, alright? And when he finally wants to know how you ended up bringing me here, please don't tell him whatever embarrassing things I did." Alfred nodded in agreement.

"None of them?" Alfred grinned and Arthur ruffled his hair.

"Alright then, if it is something good. And sorry about our first meeting being when I was drunk, I'm not usually that… excitable." He vaguely remembered taking his clothes off.

Obviously thinking of the same thing, Alfred replied quickly with, "Oh yeah, I have your tie." Alfred went to his room and brought Arthur's tie out. Arthur cringed and took it gratefully. "Thanks. Your dad had bad company at school."

"No way, I'd have loved to have a friend like you! All mine are stoners or losers. But I love them anyway, it was one of their shifts I was covering last night."

They were walking downstairs and headed for the living room.

"What was pa like at school?" Arthur laughed and told him loud enough for him to be heard in the kitchen.

"Francis? Oh god. Would you like to hear the nickname we gave him?"

"Non! Please don't tell him!" a shout was heard from the kitchen. Alfred grinned.

"It was…" Arthur paused and to his satisfaction, Francis came storming out of the kitchen and clamped a hand on his mouth.

"Absolutely no. Alfred, it is time for breakfast. Fetch your brother." Alfred went up without complaint; he'd not seen Francis like this before.

"Dick Muncher." Arthur mouthed as the hand was removed. Francis blushed and Arthur grinned.

"Breakfast? I missed your Frog cooking."

"You are still so skinny, I take it you can't eat much of the slop that you make."

Their bickering continued as they went to the kitchen and the smell of pancakes made Arthur's mouth water.

The boys came rushing downstairs and Matthew grabbed the maple syrup pot before he fell into his seat. Alfred scooped up 4 sets of knives and forks, placing them down before sitting in his own seat. Arthur was already an accepted part of the family.

"What do you think, sourcils?" Francis asked once Arthur had had a few bites, remembering the nickname he'd used all that time ago.

"Bastard." Arthur kicked him under the table and Francis sniggered. Matthew and Alfred had already finished their food and Alfred was coughing from eating too fast. Francis got to his feet and filled a glass of water for him. After breakfast the boys went off to watch television and left the men to clean up.

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. It was strange being with Francis again, neither of them had changed.

"Is Alfred from America?" Francis laughed at that.

"He would love you for saying that. No, he wishes he was."

After another silence, Francis had finished washing up and Arthur was helping him dry.

"Your English is better."

"Merci." Arthur playfully punched his arm and Francis turned around. They were facing each other. Arthur was reminded of the schoolboy crush he'd had on this man, the same crush that he'd never completely gotten over. Francis was looking at him with a look of longing and Arthur didn't consider misunderstanding the expression as he took a step forward. His eyes lowered as he trapped Francis against the counter. They put the drying cloths down.

"Arthur…" Francis was cut off as Arthur brushed his lips with his own, a violent blush forming on his cheeks and characteristically spreading across his face and ears. They leant into each other, Francis taking control and wrapping his arms around his friend, inserting his tongue in the already opened mouth. Their hands roamed around, re-learning the man in front of them. Alfred and Matthew had done bets on whether or not they were kissing, and casually strolling past the kitchen, Alfred saw them necking, hands down each others pants.

"Ew! Guys, get a room. Seriously." He unsuccessfully tried to rid himself of the images forming in his head as he went to collect his money from his brother. He heard a mixture of arguing and kissing accompanied with sounds of bodies slamming into the wall as they went to Francis' bedroom.

"Hey Mattie. Let's go to town."

It is 5 years later and Arthur's latest screenplay had been bought by one of the largest film companies in the world. He was knocking back champagne with Francis and laughing over an old school album when the phone rang. Arthur had officially moved in 4 years ago, and since then he'd improved the happiness and settle down perfectly into the family. Arthur helped Alfred escape drug addiction –having gone through it himself- encouraged Matthew to take up ice hockey –which Francis had declared too dangerous- and was the only one who Francis had been with who could keep up with Francis' incredible libido.

The call was from America, and Alfred was almost shouting with excitement. He'd just proposed to his Russian girlfriend, and she'd agreed! He was on loudspeaker and was beaming down the phone as Francis and Arthur were congratulating him and cooing and cheering in their states of tipsiness. He rolled his eyes to Arthur's 'a toast!' and the sound of more champagne being poured. he said goodbye and turned back to naked Russian beside him, drinking out of a vodka bottle and dribbling it on him before licking it off.

But, as proud as Francis would be, neither parent knew about that, they were just happy for their son.

Francis had finally gotten over Maddie's death, it having taken nearly 15 years. Arthur made him happy like he never thought possible again. Of course there were arguments, fights even. But they were so in love that they couldn't stay angry for long, and after an often-tearful hug and make up sex, they were back to normal. Alfred had gone on to be an actor, and Matthew was a professional ice hockey player. They'd both left England, but Francis and Arthur were happy in their English country home, together.


End file.
